


The Prince's Need

by kinkandquiet



Series: Poe and Dorian [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Desperation, Kink, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7081861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkandquiet/pseuds/kinkandquiet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The journey of a desperate prince and his personal guard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince's Need

Princes did have to pee.

Occasionally quite badly, as it turned out. Dorian had been relieved of any notions otherwise at a banquet months earlier in the most dramatic fashion. 

Dorian had never truly thought the prince inhuman, but now that he knew the desperation His Highness often suffered, instances of it became more apparent. The prince was, indeed, often desperate. 

Dorian tried to assist. It was an extension of his duty to the crown, and to Prince Poe, to ensure not only the prince's safety but his comfort as well. 

So he told himself.

Thus, Dorian made the an effort to have himself assigned to Poe's guard at upcoming banquets. He brought the chamber pot to the prince's desk when Poe was working himself overly hard on political agreements in the early hours of the morning. He guarded Poe's rooms and his privacy, but not his heart.

His heart, Dorian feared, was subject to the sneering whims of Poe's tyrannical father. Not a tyrannical king, for such a thought was treason, but a tyrannical father to the young prince, certainly. 

"I feel feverish." The prince startled Dorian from his thoughts. Across his rooms, he sat back from his desk, a hand to his throat. "Dorian?"

Though he had no medical training to speak of, Dorian went straight to the prince's side. When he placed his hand on the prince's forehead it was indeed warm.

"I will call for your doctor."

Poe made a low sound in his throat, turning his heated forehead into Dorian's palm and closing his eyes. 

Heat flared in Dorian's own body as he marched for the door and quickly commanded the guard outside to send for a doctor. 

"Perhaps I need sleep," the prince mused when Dorian returned to his side. 

"You have needed sleep since I met you, Highness." Affection tugged at Dorian's heart. He nudged the trade agreement the prince had been seeing to a few inches away from him on the desk. "It does not cause a fever."

When the doctor came, he confirmed Dorian's suspicions. While not dangerously high, the prince's fever needed attending to, and rest was certainly in order. In addition, he was to keep hydrated and take the pills the doctor provided. 

"He's to drink at least a few ounces of water every hour. Preferably more. And take these pills. Two tonight, two when he wakes. They've diuretic properties, so he won't want to travel. He shouldn't in this state regardless."

"Travel," the prince repeated, sounding mildly dazed. Dorian wondered how long ago he had ceased working on the trade agreement and instead must have been regarding it with the same dazed confusion. Dorian's chest hurt at the thought. He should have been paying closer attention.

"No travel," repeated the doctor, this time to his prince. "You're to remain on bedrest until the fever abates."

"There's travel tomorrow," said Poe. He turned towards the dark, open window of his room and squinted. "Or, today?"

The doctor gave Dorian a meaningful look. "Care for him."

"I do." Dorian said, and the doctor departed.

"Quite bossy." Poe rose from his desk, swaying slightly. Dorian offered his arm, which the prince took to steady himself upon. "Not much for protocol, the doctor?"

"Doctors may order even kings around," Dorian answered. He aided the dizzy prince to his bed. Once Poe was settled on its edge, Dorian knelt and began unlacing his boots. 

"Not my father." Poe wordlessly offered his left foot when Dorian had finished with the right. "Father doesn't listen to anyone."

"Lucky you know better." Boots removed, Dorian turned to retrieve the prince's bedclothes from the nightstand. When he turned around, Poe was watching him. "As the doctor said, water every hour, and you'll have pills to take before you sleep."

"There's travel tomorrow," Poe insisted. He must have been sicker than Dorian thought.

"There isn't, Your Highness. You're simply feverish." If the prince had been going out of their small county, Dorian certainly would have known it. He would have arranged the entire prince's guard beforehand. He hadn't. He had the next day off duty.

"I'm hardly warm," Poe murmured, and then his fever glazed eyes fell on Dorian's hands, where he was lifting the linen shirt from the prince's stomach. "You... you are not a servant."

Dorian froze, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. Indeed, it was not his duty to dress or to undress the prince. He had never done so before, and the familiarity with which he did so now should not have come so easily.

"Forgive me, I will call for--"

"No. You."

Dorian could feel his heart beating. He returned to his actions, slower now and with more deliberate care. He lifted the prince's shirt and folded it before unbuckling a cloth belt and beginning to strip luxurious trousers from the pale legs underneath. The silk briefs this revealed, Dorian carefully did not react to, and he averted his eyes in reverence as he slipped those down the princes thighs and brought him his bedclothes. When the linen white gown enveloped his prince, Dorian could still feel the heat in his cheeks. His throat was dry when he swallowed. He offered the prince two pills and the glass of water by the bed. 

"Take these."

"Bossy," said the prince as he took the medicine from Dorian's hand. 

"If I have offended you--"

"No," Poe downed the pills with a gulp of water. "Body guards may order even princes around."

Dorian swallowed thickly. "I didn't know."

"Well." The prince drew his feet up, preparing to lie down in the crisp sheets. "Now you do." 

Dorian's eyes fell on the half full glass as the prince slipped down between his sheets. He picked it up, not allowing his hand to shake, for truly there was nothing worth being so tense about. 

"Drink," he said. 

The prince touched his hand and took the glass.

-

In the morning, Dorian returned to the prince's quarters to check on his health and ensure the remaining two pills were taken. When he arrived, he found the maids making the bed and the pills presumably taken, the beside table empty. It was barely dawn. All things considered, Dorian had expected to find His Highness sleeping.

He stepped outside the rooms and regarded the soldier on duty. "Where is the prince?"

"The courtyard, sir," the soldier answered. "The party is preparing to depart."

_Travel_ , Poe had said.

Dorian's stomach sank.

Down in the palace's courtyard the horses had been gathered, the soldiers were dressed in traditional regalia, the king wore his crown and sat mounted upon a stallion, and Poe was standing, looking paler than usual but fully dressed and awake, beside his own horse. 

"Highness." Dorian came to him at once. He found himself helping Poe onto his horse, though it was the last thing he wished to do. Poe used his solid shoulder to balance himself before taking the horse's reins. 

"Dorian. I thought you had been banned."

"Perhaps I have." Dorian took in the activity around him, trying to make sense of it. "Forgive me, Highness. I am unprepared."

Poe, who always forgave him, simply smiled. "You did not know about the trip. You said so last night. I remember now. Father said... but I had thought he would at least... Ah, well, we set out for the lowlands this morning."

"I was given leave."

"Yes." Poe said. "Father says you deserve a break. You spend so much time seeing to me lately."

They looked at each other, something unidentified passing between them.

"He doesn't listen," Poe echoed his words from the night before. 

"You are ill," Dorian said, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. This was an outrage. "You are not fit to travel. If travel were unavoidable, I would arrange for a carriage and a doctor to assist you." He looked at Poe, sat upon his mare. "Have no arrangements been made?"

The prince shook his head.

An absolute outrage. Dorian turned and marched forward, hardly realizing where his anger had propelled him before he walked straight into the king's horse. He remembered himself in time to bow, lest he lose his head.

"Your Majesty, permission to speak."

"On what matter?" The king's eyes skimmed over Dorian like so many soldiers he employed. There was little resemblance between the king and his gentler son, though their eyes were both green like emeralds.

"Your heir."

The king badly restrained his sigh. "Speak."

"The prince is ill. The doctor has seen to him and forbidden travel."

"Of _course_ he is." The king said this as if Poe would fall ill just to vex him. "Well, here he is, mounted and prepared to march. I see no issue."

"He is ill," Dorian repeated hopelessly. "I have not had the time to make accommodations for his trip, or I--"

"As I saw fit," said the king. "You _dote_ on the boy, soldier."

Dorian winced. "Majesty."

"And what accommodations do you suggest for my heir now?"

"A doctor. A carriage. Water every hour." 

"You may have the doctor. Now, leave us."

At that, Dorian made for the stables. He let a palace guard know to relay a message to the doctor before the party left. He suited up his own horse, filled a flask with clean water, and soon drew his horse up beside with the prince's.

He offered Poe the flask. Poe blinked, took it, and sniffed. "Not alcohol?"

"Water every hour," Dorian reminded him. "You took the medicine this morning?"

"Yes," said Poe before gulping from the flask. "Doctor's orders."

A doctor's orders, and Dorian's. Poe would listen to either. Dorian tried not to acknowledge the warmth that rose in his chest, lighter than air. 

Before they left the palace courtyard, a doctor had joined them on horseback, and Dorian had found the soldier assigned to the prince's guard in his stead and summarily dismissed him. 

-

The trip started poorly and grew steadily worse. The day was warm and dry, and although Dorian and the doctor had enough water to keep Prince Poe hydrated, the prince was pink and gleaming with sweat. His horse, which Dorian had helped train as a colt, was being unusually misbehaved. 

Poe's hand stroked up and down the irritated horse's neck as he drew even with Dorian. Dorian offered him the flask, and Poe drank from it, his pale throat moving with the water. He handed the flask back and rubbed his lips. 

"How are you, your highness?"

"Well, thank you." 

Dorian suppressed a frown. In the company of his men and his father's men, the prince was much more likely to follow the guidelines of politeness than when he was in Dorian's company alone.

The third time Dorian offered him the flask, Poe seemed markedly less well. Though the weather was beginning to cool as they moved into the lowlands, the prince looked only warmer, a thin sheen of sweat covering him from his forehead to his neck where his skin disappeared beneath his robes. He licked his lips and looked dizzy. 

Dorian called the doctor over. The doctor declared Poe no worse than when Dorian had last called for him.

"You worry," The prince remarked, "far too much about me."

"I worry the appropriate amount," Dorian assured him. 

"Will we stop soon?" Poe asked.

Dorian surveyed the land around them. "We should arrive at the foreign palace in a little over an hour's time."

"And we will not stop first?"

"I don't believe so," Dorian said. "But then, I was not privy to today's schedule before this morning."

Poe went quiet. He leaned forward on his horse, which snorted and galloped a few steps. 

"The king," Dorian began. "The king says I dote."

Poe smiled, arching his back slightly. "I like it."

The next time Dorian offered him water, the prince refused it. 

"Highness, please, it's warm out," Dorian insisted, flask still held out in front of him. Poe leaned away on his horse, causing a minor disturbance among the guards when the horse skirted sideways with his body. 

"I cannot."

"You must."

"Dorian, can't we stop for a moment?" the prince turned hopeful eyes upon him. "Please?"

"I--" Dorian found himself lacking words. He glanced at the king riding near the front of the troop of mounted guards. "I don't believe so, Your Highness. If we were your own guard, certainly, but we cannot stop now unless we have the king's orders." They rode on in silence for a few moments and Dorian, uncertain of what else to do, offered the flask again. "Please, drink."

Sighing, Poe took the flask. He gulped a tiny amount from it and shoved it back into Dorian's hand. Before Dorian could protest, Poe's hand came to rest in his saddle between his body and the hard leather. He whined softly.

"Are you unwell?" Dorian asked, feeling a spike of concern.

Poe glanced at him and away again, his cheeks pink. "I have to pee terribly."

"Oh." Dorian held the flask in his hand. He wondered if Poe remembered the doctor's words in his feverish haze the night before. Suddenly Dorian was remembering them. The pills had diuretic effects. "Oh."

"I can't help it," Poe pleaded with him and if he had done something quite wrong. 

"There's nothing to be helped. We'll arrive at the palace soon." 

Truthfully, Dorian wasn't paying close enough attention to their surroundings to say how far they were from the foreign palace. He wanted only to comfort. He noticed now that the prince's legs were squeezed tightly over the horse's back, his feet balanced precariously in his stirrups. 

"It's not soon enough." The prince bit his lip, leaning forward in his saddle and cupping himself with his hand. "I can hardly contain myself."

Dorian reached over to rest a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Can't we stop?" The prince begged, making Dorian himself blush, for the prince should never beg for anything, certainly not from a simple guard. "Just for a moment? It would only be a moment. I cannot--I must."

"Not without the king's order." Dorian felt guilty for denying his prince anything. "I will request for you."

"No!" Poe said quickly. "Not to father. Please don't."

"If you cannot wait, then we must stop."

"I can," Poe rushed to assure him. "I was only... I will wait. Don't tell the king."

"As you wish."

As the next moments stretched into minutes and the horses trotted onward, it was increasingly clear that the prince could not wait, no matter his willpower. 

Prince Poe's distress was distressing his horse. The mare tried to trot forward with each squeeze of his legs, drawing several surrounding riders out of formation. The prince's fingers gripped the reins too tightly, and the horse went from a trot to a stop, disturbing several more riders behind them. The prince bounced in small, swift little motions in his saddle, and the horse whinnied. 

This did not evade the king's notice for long.

The king's stallion swerved and the king with it, his back straight as his gaze took in the scene before him. Several of his men were out of formation, and the prince, despite his efforts, was making a scene, his skin shiny with sweat, his lip between his teeth. His knees tightened again on his horse's back and Dorian reached out and grabbed the reigns before the horse could trot away. 

They stood in the middle of the road. The king's broad eyebrows drew together and his shrewd eyes squinted.

"Form up," said the king, and his six displaced riders returned to their places. In the center, Dorian held the prince's reins, the king watched, and Prince Poe gasped and canted his hips into the saddle.

The horse edged to the right, bumping another rider.

"Tell me, Poe, have you forgotten how to ride?"

The prince swallowed visibly, the usually composed young man torn apart by his desperate need. He ducked his head before the king and begged. 

"I need to stop."

"You _need_ to stop disturbing my men, yes."

The prince turned his desperate green eyes on the king, silent for a moment before a gasp was torn from his lips, and suddenly both hands flew to his crotch in the saddle, quite obviously holding himself. 

The king drew back and so did Dorian. " _Composure_ in my presence."

"I need to pee!" cried the prince. "Please, I need it desperately."

Dorian knew, from past experience, the prince's views on composure. He knew the king's views, as well.

"This is absolutely unnecessary." The king looked down at Poe as if he'd whipped it out right there. 

Poe squeezed himself harder. "I need--"

"Your needs are unnecessary to this expedition, thank you." The king snapped, straightening himself as if the prince had sullied him somehow through speaking.

He turned, prepared to lead the party down the road. At the same time, a frantic wave seemed to wash over the prince.

"I cannot contain myself!"

"Quiet him," the king said to Dorian before starting off at a trot.

Dorian winced and went to sooth the prince, touching his shoulder gently. His muscles were tense as steel and both hands tangled in the silk crotch of his robes, clutching. 

"My prince," he spoke to the squirming boy. "The king wishes you to be silent."

Poe moaned. "I cannot.”

"Your Highness, I will see to your needs as soon as the horses have reached their destination. By my estimation it will be only twelve minutes more."

Poe swallowed, meeting his eyes from below his lashes. He looked unusually disheveled. "I do not know if I can wait so long."

"My apologies, my prince," Dorian said gently. "I would assist you instantly if it were permitted."

Poe made a soft noise and bounced on the horse's back as he held himself between the legs. "I can hardly contain myself. I would not ask if I thought I could, I swear I wouldn't!"

Lips pursed, Dorian patted Poe's horse on the neck, soothing it though he couldn't sooth Poe. "I know, Your Highness."

Poe shuddered a breath and the horse tried again to jolt forward as his legs tightened over its back. Dorian tugged the reins in hard to save Poe from a wild ride.

Then the horses trotted onward. Poe and Dorian had drifted to the back of the troop of mounted guards. Poe's legs were bent very tightly around his. The horse kept responding to his squeezing thighs as if he wished to go faster, and Dorian had to keep hold of the horse's reins. Poe was shaky beside him.

In exactly twelve minutes they reached the castle, much to Dorian's relief. The way Poe was squirming all around and gasping in panic on the horse's back, he thought the prince might be truly close to wetting himself. 

As soon as they stopped at the stables Dorian jumped from his horse and went to assist the prince. 

"I will wet myself on the horse," the prince nearly sobbed. 

"Come now," Dorian encouraged, offering his arm for the prince to hold on to while he dismounted. "Take my arm and I will get you to the relief fast as I can."

"I cannot move," The prince admitted in a soft, pleading undertone. "I am so full I will burst. My bladder is so full." The prince squirmed fretfully. "I need to pee! Please let me!"

Thankfully it didn't appear the king had heard. Dorian reached up and took Poe's arm. "Please, Your Highness. Allow me to assist you. It's only a few more moments, I promise it."

Poe moaned but latched onto him as instructed and unhooked himself from the horse. Dorian caught him as he had a hundred times before as he unsaddled, but Poe was squirmy this time more than any other, and as soon as Dorian set him down he wiggled out of his grip to the straw covered ground. Poe squatted in the straw, moaning and rocking back and forth.

"Your Highness--”

"I cannot help it!" Poe wailed. "I cannot help myself. I need the toilet! I need the toilet at once!"

Dorian thought fast, moving to block the view of the desperate prince from his father and other riders. The castle toilets would be too far a walk for Poe, that much was clear, and Dorian didn't trust that even when they arrived there the prince's needs would come before the needs of the trip. 

The barracks, Dorian thought with dawning relief. It wasn't proper to bring a prince into them, but they were close and there would be a toilet.

Behind him, Poe was struggling to his feet. Dorian offered his arm and helped him the rest of the way up.

"Good," the king was saying to his head of security. "Onward, gentlemen."

Dorian stepped forward. The king sighed. "What now?"

"Your Majesty, permission to assist the prince to the barracks? They are closer than his chambers."

"Nonsense," scoffed the king. And then, to the squirming prince half hid behind Dorian. "Poe, do stop being difficult." The king looked aghast. "Are you _wetting_ yourself?"

"No!" Poe cried, straightening suddenly and tearing his hands away from his crotch.

The king shook his head and looked away with a clear air of disapproval. 

"I cannot stand to be in your presence a moment longer, Poe. Come to the great hall when you have composed yourself."

The prince trembled in the grass as the king and his company left their presence. Dorian had been denied permission to take the prince into the barracks, which meant the closest toilets were... his mind came up blank.

A hissing sound came from beside him.

Dorian turned and found that Poe was kneeling in the hay, his legs drawn up beneath him, both hands clutching his abdomen and the unmistakable sound of his release coming from beneath his robes. 

The stable-boy walked in.

The prince's breath hitched. His whole body tensed visibly, every muscle squeezing tight against his release. The air was silent as the stable-boy gave them only a curious look before he began attending to the horses.

Dorian offered the prince his arm. "Come."

The prince moved his hands out of his lap slowly and so carefully, grasping Dorian's arm with fingers that would bruise. He rose to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him. 

"I'm going to go again," Poe gasped, his wild eyes darting back and forth across the stables. "I cannot stop! I'm going to--"

"Come," Dorian said again, and drew the prince from the stables and into the light. Outside, there were courtiers and workers, but none too close to the prince and his guard.

On the benches by the stables, there was a plate, a loaf of bread left uneaten, and a single goblet. Without a thought, Dorian grabbed it.

While the prince leaned against the stable wall, Dorian knelt on one knee. He looked like any commoner kneeling before his royal highness. Carefully, he maneuvered his hand beneath the prince's robes. The prince gasped, and Dorian's hand was immediately wet.

"I have a goblet," Dorian murmured to him, his voice gone quiet and gentle at the prince's obvious distress. "You are leaking, but not on the ground. It will hold a little. It is all right."

Poe remained silent. Dorian could feel the heat of his body and the tensing, flexing desperation of his legs beneath his robes. His penis was leaking every few seconds in spurts and jets, and Dorian was doing his best to prevent a puddle in the dirt.

All at once, Poe seemed to slump, his breath coming in a thankful sob and the helpless leaks turning into a torrent. 

"Oh, god, thank you. Dorian, thank you."

"It won't hold much," Dorian explained quickly, already feeling the goblet grow heavy. "If you let a little out, I can assist you to the restroom."

The prince grew quickly frantic when Dorian shifted his grip on the filling goblet.

"I forbid you to stop," The prince said raggedly, gushing tyrannically into the receptacle under his robes. "You mustn’t!"

"Shh, Poe," Dorian soothed, peeking towards the the stables. "It is you who must stop if you don't wish to make a puddle." 

The prince moaned and cupped his full abdomen. "Dorian."

"The cup is full." Indeed, liquid had begun to spill over Dorian's hand, and the sound of it splattering on the ground below sent the prince into a panic, his cheeks growing pink as his legs twisted together. Dorian withdrew his hand, rose, and let the full goblet tip over the wall into the stables where the hay would soak up the piss.

Leaning against the stable, the prince grasped at the front of his robes. After a few moments, they were not soaked through.

"Thank you," Poe murmured, despite the fact that he was all twisted up around his distended bladder like a pretzel. "I could not... I was leaking."

"But you are still desperate." Dorian acknowledged. Then, Dorian did something unforgivable. "I will take you to the barracks."

Poe looked at him with huge green eyes. For a moment Dorian thought Poe was as horrified at Dorian's defying the king as Dorian felt at himself--but more than that Poe just looked incredibly desperate, and too afraid to be hopeful that Dorian meant it.

"Oh--?" Poe tried, biting his lip and rubbing his thighs together frantically. "Oh!" He gasped suddenly. "Yes, please, please, Dorian, please take me! Please, I'll do anything.”

"Of course," Dorian interrupted before the prince could offer him some horrifying reward for the duty he was sworn to. "At once. Come."

They moved as quickly as the prince could towards the barracks. It was too slow for Poe, who despite the relief that had allowed him to prevent an obvious puddle in the courtyard, was still in desperate need. He would hardly walk and held onto Dorian to keep himself from doubling over and collapsing with his hands in his lap. 

At the barracks entrance, a foreign guard greeted them.

Dorian nodded to him, already forming a plan. "Hello. Excuse my rudeness, but I am with a visiting kingdom for the banquet and I find myself in need of a toilet."

"Ah!" said the man, nodding. "Certainly. Right in the back, gentlemen."

Poe whimpered behind him, probably in relief. He must not have realized they weren't assured entrance yet.

"Thank you," Dorian said. He was prepared for the man's gasp when he moved to reveal Poe behind him, who appeared to be doing a very good job of not holding himself, though it was clearly agony for him.

"A prince!" The guard said, moving to block their view again. Poe moaned quietly. The man bowed deeply. "Your Highness, forgive me, I did not see you. Welcome--”

"Yes, yes," Dorian said. "He needs to stay with me. I am his personal guard." He pressed forward slightly. "May we?"

"A prince in the barracks?" The guard seemed baffled. "But..."

" _Please_ ," Poe began to cry at the same time Dorian spoke, 

"He does not object to waiting. If you could just allow us in, I would appreciate it."

The guard looked between them both before finally stepping back with a shake of his head, muttering, "It's your dishonor."

Honestly Dorian would have agreed, if he himself had been so in need of a piss that he'd forced royalty to trail after him into the barracks' toilets. But he wouldn't tell the guard the situation was reversed. Poe deserved no more embarrassment. 

Beside him, Poe twisted his legs together beneath his robes and made an urgent sound. Dorian urged him forward, Poe hardly able to walk with any dignity as they pushed their way through the barracks. 

Dorian tried to hide Poe behind him, and as soon as they made it into the restroom he whisked Poe into a stall with him and slammed the door so no one would be the wiser. 

"There we are. You can--” Dorian said, just as Poe was ripping his robes up to reveal his soft prick, squeezed tightly in his hand and already leaking full force on the red brick floor.

Dorian averted his eyes. 

In the close quarters of the stall, he felt very much a man in another’s presence, not a guard in the presence of His Royal Highness the Prince. He felt his affection and his care no less than before. His duty to Poe was not bound to the crown, but to Poe himself.

Dorian placed his hand on the small of the prince's back, gently guiding him forward so the stream his the water of the toilet. 

Poe very nearly collapsed back into his arms, though he was still leaking full force. Dorian made himself a post to lean on, tangling his arms around the prince's waist, feeling the fullness of his tortured bladder as the rock hard muscles of his body began to succumb to his release.

"There, there," Dorian said a bit awkwardly as the prince made a hitching, sobbed noise.

"I could not hold it." The prince shook despite the fact that his stream was a powerful release. "Please forgive me, I couldn't hold it any longer."

"You are all right," Dorian murmured, and continued to do so the entire time the prince relieved himself.

After an age, when Poe had finished and let his robes cover himself once more, he shook no less and leaned more heavily into Dorian's supporting embrace.

"I... I have disgraced myself in front of you."

"You are the epitome of grace, Highness," Dorian said, meaning each word. "You could not help what the water and pills did to you."

"I do not think I will take such medicine again. I prefer the fever."

"You will not be far from relief for the rest of the night," said Dorian, who would make certain of this. 

"I will be punished," Poe looked down at the wet bricks beneath their feet and shook his head. "Father saw me losing control. Spectacularly. He will not let that go. He will insist I maintain control at the banquet now." The prince swallowed, looking miserable.

Dorian paused before remarking, "There are many goblets at banquets."

The prince let out a little laugh, his cheeks pinkening once more. "Dorian."

"I will dote," said Dorian, touching the prince's pink cheek, "however I can."


End file.
